Mr Monk Runs for Mayor
by Gregory O'Loomis
Summary: Mr. Monk decides to run for mayor while helping Stottlemeyer defned himself from a dealy stalker. Told from the captain's point of view.


Mr. Monk Runs For Mayor

A/N: I of course do not own any part of the Monk franchise, I'm only a fan. This is my first try at a Monk Fanfic, and I really don't know at this point how it'll go. Please give me feedback on the prologue here and let me know if it is worth continuing. Thanks!

My name is Leland Stottlemeyer, captain of the San Francisco Police Department's Homicide Division. Love/hate relationships - my life is full of them. Now, don't let the fact that I used the word "relationship" scare you off. I'm definitely not one of those flower-wielding, tree-hugging, new age types (unlike my ex-wife Karen), but in my line of work you have to develop relationships with a lot of different people just to survive. And, as I said, a lot of these relationships for me involve love and hate. For instance, take my previously mentioned ex-wife, Karen. Most of the time I feel as if I couldn't care less if she plunged off the Golden Gate Bridge, but other times, at night in my apartment, I'll cry like a baby from wanting her back again. I have a love/hate relationship with my job. I absolutely love being a cop, and would never dream of doing anything else with my life, but when I look at a four-year-old little girl with her throat cut open by some dirtbag drug dealer, I would give anything never to have worn a badge at all if it meant that I never would have had to see it. The oddest love/hate relationship that I have, though, involves my friendship with the most brilliant detective I've ever known, Adrian Monk. I always refer to him as just "Monk", not Adrian. To me, Adrian just sounds too much like a French poodle or something. (Of course, if Monk were a canine, a French poodle is definitely the breed he'd be) Anyway, I would take a bullet right smack between the eyes for Monk, but sometimes I would gladly take that bullet and shoot him myself! Oh, and by the way? If you ever tell anyone here on the force that I cry sometimes, I'll hunt you down and shoot you, too!

Monk is pretty famous around town, as far as detectives go. He has a reputation for solving impossible cases, sometimes in only a couple of minutes. Yep, when it comes to murder, Monk is a bona-fide natural. His mind works on a completely different level than anybody else I know (Thank the good Lord! If everybody were like Monk I'd have to eat the barrell of my revolver!). He notices things others don't see. He once solved a murder that everyone thought was a suicide by pointing out that there was no red pen in the apartment, yet the suicide note was written in red ink. Therefore, the murderer had to have brought their own pen. I admit, it kind of makes me jealous, the way he can solve crimes without really trying. I think I'm a pretty good detective, but I can't come close to Monk. That's why I love him (in a strictly business sort of way. Don't dare try to read anything else into that statement). The reason why he drives me completely batty sometimes, though, is that he's...well...how should I put this? A bit odd. O.K., a lot odd. No, completely out of the stratosphere odd! You see, Monk suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (O.C.D.). Basically, that means that he has to have everything a certain way, and if they are not exactly right (and I do mean exactly) he can't concentrate. Add the fact that he has an encyclopedia of phobias including germs, dirt, milk, killer bees, public toilets, and tap water, and you've got a psychiatrist's wet dream! Every time I think I've gotten used to Monk's behavior, he'll do something bizarro that'll send my blood pressure shooting higher than Mount Everest. As I said, though, I can't do without his skills as a detective.

Monk doesn't work for the SFPD. We hire Monk as a consultant to solve cases when the detectives here at the department get stuck. He used to work on the force (in fact, I was his partner for an unforgettably short period of time), but after his wife Trudy, the one and only person who could love and understand him, was killed in a car bomb explosion, Monk went even more over into lala land than usual and was placed on indefinite leave. Hopefully one day, with the help of his assistant Natalie, and his therapist Dr. Kroger, Monk will be well enough to join the department again. On the other hand, if I had to put up with Monk every day...I honestly don't know how Natalie puts up with him. She's cute, intelligent, she could have other opportunities to do something else, but she chooses to work with Monk. Go figure. Then again, working with Monk would never be dull.

The reason I'm telling you all this about Monk is because he recently saved my life, literally. I would be in a cold hole in the ground now if he wouldn't have come through for me. To him, I owe an eternal gratitude. So this is my testament to this amazing human being, a man to whom I am honored to call a friend.


End file.
